The Final Legacy
by Bec-Bec
Summary: Once upon a time, everything was beautiful and nothing hurt. But that was never their reality. In their world, you died horrifically. But Parker and Jarod refuse to leave that as their legacy. Chapter 4 is now up.
1. Chapter 1: The Devil's Advocate

Author's Note: Well, my friends, it's been a while. Once upon a time I had the energy, dedication, and free time to be majorly involved in this fandom. But, alas, as life goes, there are always other plans and more pressing matters to attend to. One thing, however, has never changed: my persistent adoration of these complex, unique and intriguing characters. After four screenplays and an almost equivalent number of years, I'm back for another ride.

Disclaimer: As ever, these characters aren't mine.

Summary: Once upon a time, everything was beautiful and nothing hurt. But that was never their reality. In their world, you died horrifically. But Parker and Jarod refuse to leave that as their legacy.

**The Final Legacy**

By Bec-Bec

Chapter 1

**The Devil's Advocate**

_"We spend all of our lives acquiring things that we can't take with us. The things that matter, the legacies that we leave, are the memories that we created._" - RMA

When the clock struck midnight, it was time to move.

The guard rotation shifted at a trade-point down the hallway, allowing a tiny window of opportunity to access the next room-the same room Jarod had snuck into all week.

With muscles tense from waiting, he sprang forward gracefully and silently; his trained movements precise and swift enough to avoid detection.

He glanced down the hallway at the guards before quietly opening the door and slipping into the Centre's sublevel data annex. The door was shut again before the new guard began his rotation of the corridor.

The cavernous room was lined with tall shelves, stacked deep with files, cassettes, film canisters, microfege, and a variety of unidentifiable storage devices that had failed to catch any public interest or distribution. Together, they comprised nearly one tenth of the Centre's information from conception to the early nineteen eighties. The largest collection in one place.

Other files were stored in annexes across the continental United States, and a few scattered locations in Western Europe.

But this was one of Jarod's last storage areas.

During his years outside of the Centre, he had covertly visited many of the annexes, uncovering tiny pieces of information. Several of the secrets he had sent to Miss Parker regarding her past had been discoveries based on information he had pulled from the data facilities. However, information about himself had been the hardest to uncover.

Few occasions had presented themselves for Jarod to search the Centre's file room, but thanks to Mr. Raines' recent staff cutbacks, the security team had less guards than ever before. Unlike Mr. Parker, Raines paid less heed to the Centre's former filing processes, concerned only with the more recent computer back-up files. This gave Jarod easier access to the information which most concerned him; information regarding the beginning of the Pretender program and its initial studies, as well as its "acquisitions" and their backgrounds. Their families.

Jarod moved to the wall opposite the entrance, picking up the clockwise circle that he had begun on his first night there. He lifted a massive box of paperwork from a low shelf and began flipping through its contents.

The work was slow, tedious. But Jarod focused with the acuity of a computer's search function, scanning document after document, line after line. Only five and a half hours later, as his eye muscles tensed and his brain had absorbed file upon file, did words like "merger" and "rectify" somehow translate into "Margaret" or "red file." And after the false sense of victory had passed, he realized that the hour for him to leave was drawing near. The guards would be changing again on the hour.

He tidied up the last box he had investigated and made a mental note of its position on the racks. Based on his progress, he made a quick calculation of the number of boxes left and the amount of time it would take to examine their contents. Satisfied with his general rate of exploration, he moved toward the door.

Kneeling against the wall, Jarod slid a tiny strip of mylar beneath the door and into the hallway. After his first night of searching, he had realized that the electronic surveillance equipment he had brought was unnecessary. This low-tech device was perfectly adequate for the sublevel's sparse sweeper population.

He tilted the strip to the side. The current guard was tapping his foot impatiently and looking around the switch-point corner for his replacement. Satisfied with the guard's preoccupation, Jarod made his way out of the room as stealthily as he had entered it.

Then he was in the air ducts and the silent, unused chambers of the Centre's sublevels, making his way to the surface once more.

* * *

"I once heard someone make a statement about politicians," Jarod commented dryly. "'They use each other's nasty little secrets against themselves.'"

"Jarod." Sydney's voice was nearly jovial. It had been a long while since he'd heard from his protégé.

"Hello, Sydney." The Pretender's voice had an equivalent fondness in its tone.

Sydney leaned back in his office chair. "I was beginning to worry. We haven't heard from you in nearly a month."

"I had other pressing matters to attend to."

"Politicians?" Sydney asked with interest.

"In a manner of speaking. A form of politics, at least."

Sydney's brow furrowed. "What sort of politics?"

"The kind that will bring justice for wrongs inflicted by the Centre."

Sydney sat forward. "You're not dealing with the Triumvirate, are you?"

There was a pause on the line. "No. Not yet, anyway."

"But you will be."

Jarod didn't answer.

The psychiatrist slumped back into his chair once more. "It is not advisable to play the Centre and the Triumvirate against one another."

"I'm merely feeding off a millennium of distrust."

"Using their nasty secrets against them."

"So to speak."

Sydney frowned in disapproval. "And if your plans backfire?"

"At the very least, Raines will no longer be in control of the Centre."

"You can't be certain that whatever information you've gained access to is unknown to the Triumvirate."

"No. But I can be fairly certain the information I have about the Triumvirate is unknown to the Centre." Jarod's voice was cool, ominous.

"You're playing the devil's advocate," Sydney stated with displeasure.

"Only because the devil is so easily led astray in the pursuit of power."

Sydney spoke with caution. "Raines may not be as quick to strike against the Triumvirate as you believe him to be." The psychiatrist looked around his office quickly. "He's been well outside of their reprehension for quite some time. And the past month has only proven their continued support of his Centre leadership."

Jarod chuckled darkly. "Nobody has full support from the Triumverate, not even itself." Shuffling noises sounded over the phone line. "I'll be in touch."

The line clicked.

"I hope so, Jarod, I hope so." Sydney stared at the phone handset grimly, as though he could will the Pretender to call back and change his mind. But he knew Jarod far too well to believe it was even a remote possibility. He only hoped his protege knew everything that he was calling into jeopardy.

* * *

"Miss Parker?"

No response.

"Miss Parker?" Sam stepped into the office cautiously, afraid to frighten his boss out of her thoughts. He frowned when she failed to answer him a second time.

Clicking the door shut behind him, he approached her desk slowly.

Miss Parker's eyes were focused on some distant object that Sam couldn't perceive, and her skin was even paler than its normal fair complexion.

The fear that she had been poisoned or otherwisely harmed crept into his skin.

"Miss Parker?" he asked with urgency.

The concerned timbre of his voice finally broke Miss Parker from her contemplation.

She looked at him curiously. "Mmm, Sam? What did you need?"

Sam puffed air out of his chest with relief. He hadn't even realized that he was holding his breath.

"Mr. Lyle is on his way to Atlanta. I thought you'd like to know."

"Yes, thank you," she answered, with focused clarity. She stood, smoothing her suit.

"Are you alright?" The sweeper asked slowly, afraid that she might rail on him.

Miss Parker smiled softly. "I'm fine, Sam."

He nodded and left the room.

Miss Parker sighed, her mouth forming a troubled frown.

She turned to her office window and looked down at the frozen Centre grounds. Ice coated the grass blades and the trees in the nearby conservatory.

It was going to be a long and chilly winter.

* * *

"Sydney, has Miss Parker seemed… distant to you lately?" Broots asked quietly.

The psychiatrist smiled thoughtfully at the nervous techie. "No more than usual, Broots."

Broots frowned. "Ever since she got back from Carthis. It's like… she's focused on someplace that isn't here, and some _thing_… that troubles her."

"We're all troubled, Broots," Sydney paused, "but I suppose she has been a bit less focused since her return."

Miss Parker chose that exact moment to walk in with determined purpose. "We're going to Atlanta."

"Didn't Mr. Lyle just go to Atlanta?" Broots stuttered.

"That's what he wants us to think. And I'm going to let him think that we followed him."

Broots blinked in confusion.

"Just pack it up, Broots. Okay?"

She spun on her heal and left the room again.

Broots looked at Syndey in confusion. The doctor simply shrugged.

* * *

"Ugh!" Miss Parker slammed the hotel door shut behind her. After four hours of Broots' rambling and Sydney's psychiatric advice, she was at the end of her patience.

Thankfully, the Centre-funded hotel in Atlanta had more than one room available. She left Dr. Spock and Nervous Nelly in a room down the hall.

Collapsing on the queen-sized bed in the middle of the room, she let out one more annoyed groan before allowing her body to go lax. She removed the gun from her waistband, slid it under her pillow, and immediately drifted off to sleep.

"You've been sleeping an awful lot lately, Parker."

Miss Parker sat bolt upright in bed, her hand grabbing her gun instinctively and pointing it into the darkness.

"I can cock and shoot faster than you can say 'please,'" she sneered.

"But we all know shooting me isn't your forte, Miss Parker." Jarod switched on a lamp. He sat comfortably in a well-stuffed chair.

"What are you doing here, Jarod?" She kept her gun levelled on him.

"Just thought I'd stop in. Maybe visit the zoo. You know, I've heard they have this adorable baby panda-"

She cut him off. "Bullshit. What are you doing in my hotel room?"

"I think the more appropriate question is what are _you_ doing in Atlanta? I haven't sent the Centre any clues or hints in the last month."

"And yet here you sit at the other end of my gun. Odd coincidence, isn't it?" She smiled coldly.

"Lyle sent you here on a goose-chase. Why did you take the bait?" Jarod asked her calmly.

"I have my reasons." She cocked the gun. "And you have yours. Explain before I put a cap in you."

"I've come to offer you an olive branch. A piece of your past." He stood and pulled a large file folder from inside of his trenchcoat.

Miss Parker narrowed her eyes at the folder. "What is it?"

"Something that should help you choose your alliances when the war comes."

"What war?" She accepted the folder from Jarod, dis-arming her gun and dropping it on the bed.

"Read the file. It will explain everything."

She looked down at the folder skeptically. When she looked up again, Jarod was gone.

"Smartest man in the world and he still can't figure out how to use a door." She scoffed.

Frowning, she opened the folder and began to read.

Author's Note: This should start slow and gather more momentum. Forgive me for keeping it short, that isn't normally my style.


	2. Chapter 2: Antebellum

Disclaimer: As ever, these characters aren't mine.

Summary: Once upon a time, everything was beautiful and nothing hurt. But that was never their reality. In their world, you died horrifically. But Parker and Jarod refuse to leave that as their legacy.

Author's Note: No animals were harmed in the making of this story. Seriously.

Etc. Note: _Antebellum_: a Latin word meaning "before war" ("_ante_" meaning before and "_bellum_" meaning war).

It always struck me as odd that "_bellum_" is so close to "_bellus_," a Latin infinitive for beauty and charm.

So, perhaps, an idea to keep in mind with this story is: "_What is the beauty of war?_"

**The Final Legacy**

By Bec-Bec

Chapter 2

**Antebellum**

----

"Miss Parker, I don't mean to question your authority... I mean, I'm sure you have your reasons. But, what exactly are we doing at the zoo?" Broots asked cautiously.

A baboon nearby rattled its bars.

"Visiting that adorable baby panda I've heard so much about," she said derisively.

Broots looked at Sydney who shrugged in answer. They followed Miss Parker down the path.

Stopping in front of a caged lynx, Miss Parker slid Jarod's folder under her arm and pulled a cigarette case and lighter from her pocket. She lit a cigarette.

"Miss Parker, you can't smoke here!" Broots said in abject horror.

"Watch me."

"But the animals... and there are signs!" The lynx chose that moment to hiss at Broots. He jumped back in surprise.

"Miss Parker, if something has caused you enough stress to resume smoking, I suggest that you undergo a therapeutic--"

"Shut it, Syd. The only thing that's causing me stress is you two nincompoops. Now come on."

She stalked down the path, stopping only when a little boy crossed in front of her. She leered at the boy and he immediately scampered away.

"Now, Miss Parker, that's no way to treat a small child," Jarod chided, lifting his sunglasses.

The Pretender stood propped against a tree, just outside of the panda exhibit. He was dressed head-to-toe in leather.

"And wearing leather to the zoo must have PETA in an uproar." She puffed smoke at him.

"Jarod!" Sydney exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello, Sydney." The two embraced.

"H-hi," Broots managed to stutter.

"Hello, Mr. Broots. How is your daughter," Jarod asked kindly.

"Debbie? Oh, she's great. She just started the f--"

"Enough, Broots." Miss Parker poked a finger into Jarod's chest. "Why are we here?"

Jarod grinned. "I'm glad you figured out my clue. Lyle doesn't give you enough credit."

"Lyle's comeuppance is sorely overdue," she hissed. "Now, explain the file."

"I gather you read it."

"Front to back. Several times."

"Is anybody going to explain why we're at the zoo?" Broots asked. He accidentally backed into a large picture of a saber-toothed tiger and jumped about a mile. "Jeebies!"

Miss Parker snorted.

"What file?" Sydney interjected curiously.

Jarod hesitated, then answered diplomatically. "At the moment, it wouldn't be safe to reveal the contents to you, Sydney. I took great risks even sharing them with Miss Parker."

"I'd hardly call it sharing," she scoffed.

Jarod frowned but continued to speak to his mentor. "Rest-assured you'll know the effects of that information soon enough."

"The Triumvirate," Sydney said disapprovingly.

Jarod nodded. He turned back to Parker. "Have you decided which side of the war your allegiances will fall on?"

"Neither side. Your file was a riddle," she sneered. "Another bullshit fabrication to mess with me."

Jarod frowned. "Come now, Parker, I expected more of you. It was a cypher."

"And how do you propose I would crack a cypher without a keyword?" she hissed, shoving the file at Jarod.

"I assumed you would have figured that out," Jarod chided. "Afterall, the code word is your name." He smiled like a Cheshire cat.

Miss Parker gritted her teeth angrily. "What gives you the right?"

Jarod shrugged. "Nothing." He slid his sunglasses back on. "You know where to find me when you figure it out." He handed the file back to Miss Parker and turned to Broots. "Now Mr. Broots, tell me more about Debbie and the fourth grade."

"Well, fifth, actually..."

The two men drifted into the panda exhibit.

"Can't you just share a simple piece of information like a normal person!" Miss Parker yelled after him.

Sydney patted Miss Parker on the back. "I'm sure he has his reasons, Miss Parker."

"Everyone and their god-damned reasons," she snarled.

Sydney followed the two gentleman, leaving Miss Parker fuming.

--

Twenty minutes later, Miss Parker sat in front of a disgusting looking food hut, her eyes widening with each passing moment. She was already halfway into the file.

She had paced in front of the panda exhibit, chain-smoking and cursing Jarod's wretched existence for fifteen anger-filled minutes before a zoo guard had finally requested that she relinquish her cigarettes before she was escorted out of the zoo.

Logically, she had surrendered the cigarettes and reluctantly set to work on Jarod's encryption.

Her innate Pretender abilities rose to the surface, allowing her to map the cypher against the encryption and read onward with little difficulty.

What she uncovered was not what she expected. However, she wasn't sure what she should have expected to begin with. But this... this was beyond anything she might have anticipated.

Nearly at the end of the file, she gasped in horror. Her hand flew to her mouth and tears collected in the corners of her eyes.

She slammed the file shut.

--

"Where did you find that file?!" Miss Parker had Jarod pinned to a wall.

A few passers-by looked at the pair curiously, but continued on their way, afraid to be involved in their quarrel.

"I gather you've chosen your side then."

Miss Parker let go of him. "Not yet. I have questions. And you better have the right answers."

Jarod feigned a smile at a lady and her children. "Not here, Parker."

"You're the one that chose the goddamned zoo, Monkeyboy. Or were you just yearning to find yourself in a cage again, because that can be arranged."

Jarod frowned. "I'll explain everything back at your hotel."

"This should be good." She stuck her hand out and pulled Broots away from an exhibit plaque by the collar. "Come on."

----

"I don't understand, Sydney." Broots fumbled around in their hotel room nervously. "Miss Parker drags us down to Atlanta... and then Jarod is here, even though he shouldn't be... and she doesn't even threaten to bring him in! It's like... she set up some sort of meeting... and boy oh boy, if Raines and Lyle find out about this..." He trailed off, looking at Sydney desperately. "Debbie's in Blue Cove all alone right now!"

"Stay calm, Broots. I'm sure Jarod would not have put your daughter in any danger. I don't know what Miss Parker and Jarod are getting in to, but I'm fairly sure our safety is only guaranteed if we are in the dark about it." Despite his calming, confident words to the younger man, Sydney frowned pensively. "It is all quite curious though."

----

Miss Parker downed a glass of scotch as though it contained nothing but water.

"You know, that's bad for your ulcer."

"Life is bad for my ulcer."

Miss Parker had mellowed since her original discovery of... She shook her head, refilled her glass and downed it again.

"Slow down, Parker. I need you alive... preferably." He took the scotch bottle away from her with a wink.

"Alive, that's a laugh." She ambled to the bed and sat down. "What a grand life it's been. Secrets, lies, mirages, random twin brothers, a suicidal mother—oh no, wait, not suicidal just deceptive to the only daughter she ever... knew and loved..." Miss Parker trailed off. After a moment, she looked up at Jarod. "The story goes on an on. Each chapter more twisted than the one before it."

"It doesn't have to be that way anymore."

"And what are you proposing, boy wonder? That I join your paltry little war? What difference will it make?" she turned to Jarod coldly. "We're either dead at the hands of the Centre, or murdered by the arm of the Triumvirate. And what's the difference these days anyway."

"The difference is, we have the opportunity and the power to take them both down."

"And how do you plan to do that, Jarod? Wave a magic wand? Kidnap the chief and hold him for ransom?"

"Hey, that worked," Jarod huffed defensively.

Miss Parker continued heedless. "Whatever you've got planned is like a tiny ant facing an oversized shoe."

Jarod sat next to Parker. "I've acquired things, Parker. Pieces of information. Confidential and non-sanctioned information... information about you and I... and the Pretender program. Things the Centre never expected me, or anyone to know about."

"Are you planning on sharing? Or do I have to decrypt more messages for that?"

Jarod gave a half-smile. "The cypher was mostly to keep you on your toes."

"You and your goddamned riddles," she sneered. "Next time you find important information, you better damn well hand it to me in plain English. Especially if it's about..."

Jarod nodded. "I know. I'm sorry. I got it to you as fast as I could, I just wasn't expecting you to fly to Atlanta."

"Neither was I." She looked away from him.

Jarod waited for her to continue.

"I heard Ethan."

"Ethan? Is he alright?" Jarod asked with urgency.

Miss Parker nodded. "He was warning me..." She turned back to Jarod. "You aren't the only one waging war on the Centre."

"Lyle." Jarod gritted his teeth.

"This won't end well, Jarod."

"Nothing involving the Centre ever does." He looked at her firmly. "But we have to try."

Miss Parker shook her head sadly. "The Parker Legacy. My mother's legacy... History can only repeat itself." She looked at him sorrowfully. "Either way, we die."

"We can't die if we never live life to begin with."

She looked away from him uncomfortably.

"The choice is yours Parker."

----

Lyle rubbed his thumb uncomfortably. The recent cold, damp weather sent unpleasant arthritis through his injured hand. He hated the winter.

He crossed to his desk and picked up the telephone. His good hand quickly typed in a handful of numbers, more than were necessary to reach someone in the states.

"Put him on the phone," Lyle ordered.

A moment passed. Lyle looked out the window at the cold ice-covered ground of the Centre, wrinkling his lip unpleasantly.

The other end of the telephone line returned.

"I'm ready to move forward to phase two," Lyle said.

He nodded at the phone, though the other party couldn't see him.

"The only problem I can anticipate is Miss Parker. I have a feeling she uncovered something she shouldn't have."

He turned away from the cold scene outside.

"Yes, I'm aware of that. Measures are being taken--"

He was cut off.

"I know. Yes, of course. As soon as possible."

A pause while the other person responded.

"No, he doesn't know yet. With all due respect, Raines doesn't have a clue how to guide the Centre. I doubt he will prove to be a problem."

Lyle absent-mindedly twirled a paperweight on his desk.

"Of course. I'll be in contact as soon as it's complete." He nodded again.

"Yes, sir."

The call ended and Lyle hung up the receiver. He breathed out deeply. War was coming to the Centre. And he was going to be at the forefront. He would make sure of that.

Author's Note: I'd just like to say thanks to the people who reviewed my story or added it to their story alerts. But, more importantly, I would like to express thanks to the **AUTHORS**. Every piece of fic that I read inspires me to write more. Without all of your wonderful stories, I'd be far less motivated. So thank you for sharing! And please continue to write :-)

Also, a little anticipation never hurt anybody, so don't be too frustrated. I will most likely reveal what's in the folder Jarod gave to Parker sometime in the next chapter. Until then, I will leave all of your creative minds to imagine what its contents are!


	3. Chapter 3: Faceless

Disclaimer: As ever, these characters aren't mine.

Summary: Once upon a time, everything was beautiful and nothing hurt. But that was never their reality. In their world, you died horrifically. But Parker and Jarod refuse to leave that as their legacy.

Author's Note: A few responses to the lovely reviews I have received:

Vid Z.: It would be safe to assume that this will become JMPR. (heart)

nightowl: don't browse too far back, it ruins the illusion that I know what I'm doing ;-) However, I appreciate your support. So... thanks!

To everyone else: your kind words urge me forward. Thank you for the inspiration!

**The Final Legacy**

By Bec-Bec

Chapter 3

**Faceless**

----

Miss Parker stared at herself in the mirror, examining her cheekbones, the icy coldness of her eyes, the arch of her eyebrows. She wondered briefly how often Jarod looked at himself in the same manner. How often he stood there wondering if he was simply the sum of these composite features. Just a human, so much the same as anybody else. Knowing that it wasn't the case, but wondering just the same.

"Who am I?" The words slipped from her mouth unbidden.

Jarod had left her alone over an hour ago, knowing she would need the time to come to terms with what he had given her.

Earlier, she had projected a facade. A sharp attitude and stone face to deter Sydney and Broots from probing her. But here, by herself, there was nothing to hide behind.

She turned her head to the side and lifted her chin, examining the way the muscles in her neck flexed and stretched. Just the same as everyone else. But not.

Her reflection glared back at her. There were no smile lines around her eyes, no scars from childhood, no freckles from the sun, nothing but the lightest etching of life. Glassy, hard, and dark.

Miss Parker reached out and touched the mirror with the tips of her fingers. She was empty.

The Centre had permeated every fiber and molecule of her being, simulating her entire existence. Simulating her.

It shouldn't have been a surprise. Nothing should have been a surprise anymore.

They had tested her, molded her, done every possible thing they could imagine to strip her of her humanity, of her ability to care and accept the care of others. And now she knew it had been their pre-meditated goal.

Jarod's file hadn't just contained a piece of her past; it had held years or her life. Directive after directive of the Centre's plans to mold her into an assassin.

She had been a cog in their system, just another test-subject. They had conditioned her differently than the others. There were no simulations or pretends. Things were simply done. People killed. And then she was measured and tested again.

Her mother, Thomas, her father... there were even outlines on Sydney and Broots.

Anyone she had ever cared about... except her childhood friend. The one person who wasn't expendable to whatever master plan they had devised. So instead, they had trained her to hate and distrust him. They made him their scapegoat, blamed him for all of their strikes against her.

They had tried to harden her. To make her impermeable to anything. The truest ice queen. But they had underestimated her. They had trusted her facade. This facade.

She stared at herself in the mirror, suddenly terrified of what she saw. Her father's ice cold eyes. His stiff jaw. Nothing was hers.

She turned the sink on and started to scrub at her face, removing every touch of make-up. Her entire mask. But when she looked in the mirror, she still didn't see herself. What she saw was a wet and ragged Catherine Parker, completely defeated. She couldn't help but flashback to her mother's stricken face. Her suicide. Miss Parker gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

She backed away from the mirror, stumbling into the shower stall behind her. She curled up in the corner, and reached for the faucet. An icy cold spray showered down on her.

All she wanted was to wash away down the drainpipes.

----

Jarod knocked a second time. "Miss Parker?"

He had left her alone to sober up and absorb the weight of what he had handed her. But after two hours of pacing the street outside her hotel, he found himself anxious and unable to focus.

He stared at Miss Parker's hotel door, with worry.

When a third knock failed to yield a response, his worry escalated to anxiety and panic. He hesitated for only a moment, wanting to respect Miss Parker's privacy, but fear for her safety overtook him.

He picked the lock as quickly as possible, bursting into Miss Parker's room.

"Parker?"

The bedroom was empty, but he could hear water running in the shower. He breathed a short sigh of relief: she simply hadn't heard him because of the water.

He walked to the bathroom doorway, eyes averted, and knocked on the doorjamb. "Parker?"

Still no answer.

Jarod's brow furrowed. "I'm coming in." He walked into the bathroom cautiously. "I hope you're decent." He smiled wryly, knowing how irritated she would be.

His face fell immediately.

Miss Parker sat, rocking back and forth, soaked to the bone.

Jarod turned the water off, and instead of pulling her from the shower, he simply sat down next to her and rested a hand on her shoulder.

He had been here many times. Adrift in a sea of darkness. Anchorless. Without identity. Completely friendless and alone.

But he wasn't. And neither was she.

Together they swayed, back and forth, back and forth.

----

Author's Note: It didn't seem right to break the mood by adding a more plot-driven scene to the end or beginning of this. This chapter is part of Parker's journey... a journey that I will expand on in the following chapter.

Cheers. And I'll see you again soon.


	4. Chapter 4: A New Legacy

Disclaimer: As ever, these characters aren't mine.

Summary: Once upon a time, everything was beautiful and nothing hurt. But that was never their reality. In their world, you died horrifically. But Parker and Jarod refuse to leave that as their legacy.

Author's Note: Sorry about the wait! I've been dreadfully busy with two jobs... and am actually in Europe right now on vacation. What do I do on my vacation? Write and read Pretender fic :-p Even when I'm in some of the most beautiful cities in the world.

Cheers for now!

****

The Final Legacy

By Bec-Bec

Chapter 4

****

A New Legacy

--

__

tick tick

Miss Parker's eyes fluttered. She felt warm. Safe. Coccooned.

__

tick tick

She opened her eyes and looked around. She was wrapped snugly in four blankets.

Jarod laid next to her at a respectful and gentlemanly distance from her side of the bed, save for his right arm which had splayed across her pillow near her head. His watch ticked softly in her ear.

She inched up in the bed.

Jarod shifted with a groan, his eyes opening slowly. He saw Miss Parker and blinked, sitting up.

"How do you feel?" His voice was still gruff with sleep.

"Alright." She paused. "Warm."

He could feel her, pulling back inside of herself, reorganizing everything that had spilled out the night before. He wanted to help her come to terms, but he knew from personal experience that it was a solitary and internal journey she would need to make for herself. No one could give you your identity.

He hesitated for a moment, then said softly. "It will take time..." he paused. "figuring out the answer. Who you are... Who we are..."

She turned her head away.

Jarod read the silent gesture, stood, and grabbed his jacket from a nearby chair. "You'll know where to find me."

He made his way to the door, opened it, and left.

Just as the door hit the jamb, so low that he was barely certain her had actually heard it, the words "Thank you, Jarod" slid through the door.

A half-smile turned the corner of his lips.

--

Miss Parker spent most of the day sleeping, drifting in and out of dreams. Some severe and awful enough that she woke up crying. Others soothing and calming her. Her mind seemed to be lost at sea, battling against itself.

She was finally awoken by a loud knock at the door. A cold sweat rose on her skin. She searched under her pillow for her gun, but didn't find it there.

Spiteful thoughts toward Jarod were chopped off by a second knock.

"Room service," a muffled voice called.

Miss Parker sighed, then answered "Just a second."

She slid out of the covers, pause a moment to make sure that her robe was securely fastened and cautiousy opene the door.

Sure enough, she was greeted by a hotel attendant pushing a large silver cart. A heavenly aroma wafted into her room.

"I didn't order any--"

The attendant cut her off. "The gentleman in room 312 wished to pay his compliments."

Miss Parker sighed. "Of course he did."

She opened the door, and gestured for the attendant to enter.

While he unloaded the cart, she went to pull a tip from her wallet, but the attendant waved her off. "It's been taken care of, ma'am. Bon appetit."

He wheeled his cart out and left the room.

Miss Parker turned to the table, curious about what Jarod would have ordered, and why there was so much of it. Three large trays covered her table. Just as she was about to remove the top of the closest tray, the phone rang.

She strode over to it "What?"

"Traumatic situations can deplete your body of essential vitamins and minerals. It's important that you replace them as soon as possible. In other words, dig in!"

The phone clicked.

"Of course," she said snidely, hanging the phone back up. "Cheeky bastard." Though, she had to hand it to him, she was quite hungry.

-

Half an hour later, Miss Parker had only managed to make it through a tiny portion of each plate. She silently berated Jarod each time she lifted the cover of a tray only to discover another culinary rarity -- and favorite -- that he must have special ordered for her.

When she was certain that she couldn't eat another bite, she cleaned up and wandered down the hall to Sydney and Broots' room.

After a light knock, Sydney opened the door.

"Miss Parker!" he exclaimed. "Jarod said you were a bit under the weather. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," she answered shortly.

Sydney held the door open for her.

As she walked into the room, she saw Jarod and Broots staring at a chess board in deep concentration.

After a moment, Broots moved a pawn.

"Well played, Mr. Broots!" Jarod smiled. He turned and caught sight of Miss Parker. "Did you enjoy your fois gras?"

"Indeed. And the feasant. But, if you boys are about done with your games, we should get down to business," she said starkly.

Jarod turned back to the chess board and moved a piece. "Checkmate," he declared.

"How is that... I mean, you just said what a great move I had made..." Broots stammered.

Jarod stood and patted Broots on the back. "It was a great move for you, Mr. Broots. But it didn't block mine."

Broots looked at Sydney who simply shrugged in response.

Jarod turned back to Miss Parker. "Shall we, then?" He gestured toward the hallway.

--

Despite Sydney's disapproval of being removed from their discussion, Jarod had escorted Miss Parker to Room 312 privately.

Inside, he had set up a number of computers to do various tasks. File folders were scattered on every available surface, bursting with stacks of information. Pez dispensers and boxes of donuts were scattered in the mess.

"How long have you been here?" Miss Parker asked curiously.

"As long as you have," Jarod sat at his laptop, typing in commands.

Miss Parker cocked an eyebrow. "Did you really think it was wise to stay in a Centre-approved hotel?"

"Just because it's Centre-approved doesn't mean it's Centre-loyal," Jarod said distractedly. He turned back to her. "In actuality, this hotel is helping me fight against the Centre. But that's part of the bigger picture."

"And just what _is_ the bigger picture?" Miss Parker asked. "Or will I have decipher a message in ancient sanskrit spelled out with macaroni."

Jarod chuckled. "That's a good one, Parker."

She scowled.

He looked at her more seriously. "Before I show you any of this, you have to understand what you are giving up."

"I don't have anything left to give up, Jarod," she said coldly.

"You do, Parker, you just aren't aware of it," he stared at her. "Sydney, Broots, Debbie, your house, all of your mother's belongings... me."

She blinked.

"We'll be gambling everything." His gaze was penetrating. "And once we're in, there's no going back."

She turned away from his eyes.

"We're stronger as allies. The Centre knows that. They will do everything that they can to pull us apart."

"And if we lose it all?"

"At least we'll have the legacy we were meant to. The legacy that your mother wanted for us."

"What's the point of a legacy if there's no one to remember it, Jarod?" She asked sadly.

Jarod smiled at her gravely. "More people than you know will remember it, Miss Parker. More people than you know."

Miss Parker nodded. "Then I guess it's time to change the Parker legacy," she answered slowly

"You've already changed it, Parker. More than you realize."

--

Sydney stared at the sky, wishing the haze of city lights had done less to dim the stars. When he was a boy, his Granmére had gazed upwards with him, naming each of the constellations in the clear Belgian air. He had admired each one of them as a separate story. A mysterious cosmic tale, etched into the sky for all eternity. Glimmering with hope.

So often, he had recognized that same glimmer in Jarod's eyes. The longing to teach others, and be taught by them. The longing to remember and be remembered. The same shine that Sydney's Granmére had so affectionately seen in his eyes.

"Je t'aime, ma étoile," Sydney repated softly to the sky.

Sydney drifted off in reverie, remembering his boyhood.

It was only later as the sky opened and poured rain down on him that he was broken from his thoughts.

Difficult times lay ahead. He could feel it in his bones.


End file.
